


All the Spaces in Between

by Ediblecrayon, velvetjinx



Series: Creatures of Dark Air [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood and Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Soul Bond, rating to go up, referenced original character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ediblecrayon/pseuds/Ediblecrayon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: The events of the past, present, and future.





	1. Dreams of summer's past

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place post Evanstan bonding.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night for old memories, and creating new ones, too.

They’ve been at glade for a few hours already when Seb realizes Chris is missing. 

It’s less of a party and more of a rambunctious gathering of varied species. The fae celebrate the changing of the seasons and lunar holidays each year, and all the magic and gifted folk are invited to the festivities.

Who knew faeries liked to party.

This time around it’s the summer solstice, and the forest looks absolutely stunning. Small faerie lights adorn the foliage, and the trees are bright and alive with magic. It looks like something out of a child’s storybook. 

Seb’s in the middle of dancing with Scarlett when he feels a tug in the back of his mind, a notable absence in his chest where Chris’s warmth and presence should be. It’s nothing frantic, so Chris isn’t in any danger, but it’s soft and filled with longing. Excusing himself with a kiss to Scarlett’s cheek, Sebastian sets off back down the path to find his wayward mate.

He eventually finds Chris sitting on a rotted tree at the very edge of the forest, red-eyed and nursing cigarette, and Sebastian feels like a vice is squeezing his heart. It’s not often Chris has moments like these, not anymore, but they’re by no means uncommon. Nine times out of ten he loses himself in sorrow and memories and what-could-have-beens, the other one is because he’s drunk and waxing poetic about Brokeback Mountain. Sebastian suspects this time definitely falls into the former category.

“Hey,” he calls softly, approaching the tree on light feet. It’s not all that necessary; Chris is more than aware of his presence by now, but Sebastian knows Chris appreciates it all the same. “Do you want some company?”

Chris silently extends a hand in response, the other still clenched tightly around the half-smoked cigarette. An ashtray half filled with used butts sits at his feet, and the vice in Sebastian’s chest tightens painfully. It’s one of those nights, then.

Sebastian gently takes hold of the offered hand, allowing himself to be tugged down beside Chris; instead of letting go, Seb simply adjusts Chris’s grip so their fingers are twined together. Anyone else would ask questions-- what was wrong, was everything all right, but Sebastian knows Chris better than he knows himself, and he already has all the answers he needs. So for now he stays silent and waits for Chris to talk when he’s ready.

They sit quietly for awhile, listening to rustling leaves and sounds of nature, until Chris clears his throat to speak, voice hoarse.

“He would have loved this.”

Neither of them need to elaborate on who Chris is referring to. Instead, Seb gives him hand a reassuring squeeze before briefly letting go, shuffling closer so he can loop an arm around Chris’s waist and tuck his chin over Chris’s shoulder before linking their hands again. “Yeah, he really would have.”

“We couldn’t do this back then. Too many humans around, there wouldn’t have been any way to throw any any sort of ceremony or festival out in the open. Couldn’t celebrate the solstice with the fae. Couldn’t have an occult shop without being scrutinized.” Chris takes a puff of his cigarette, lets it out slowly as his voice cracks. “Couldn’t dance together unless we were around family or other inhumans. Couldn’t hold his hand unless we were in the underground. Couldn’t walk too close together, bump shoulders unless we were around our kind. Stupid human customs. Had to fucking pretend just so we could pass for mortals.”

Seb buries his nose in the crook of Chris’s neck. “It sucked. Still sucks, how some people are today. But there’s more of us now, and the humans are progressing. Slowly, but they’re getting there. Remember when we went to Europe last year to visit your family? I don’t think I let go of you once the whole trip and no one blinked an eye. As for all this,” he jerks his head back in the direction of the festivities, “We had some good parties back in the day. It wasn’t the solstice, couldn’t be anything that could be considered hedonistic, but remember that club in Tel Aviv? The three of us had some good times there. And Brazil. Can’t forget all the caiporas and iaras we met. Plenty of dragons too, even ran into a succubi.”

Chris chuckles wetly, taking another drag of smoke before ashing it into the tray. “Yeah. Can’t forget that. I have some great memories from back then. The three of us, we just fit, like we were all meant to raise hell together.”

Sebastian smirks. “Three musketeers.”

Laughing weakly, Chris placed the butt between his lips to flick Seb on the ear. “You’re a loser.”

“And you’re bonded to me so that makes us _both_ losers.”

Chris takes a final drag before stubbing out the cig and dropping it into the tray. “What was I thinking.”

Sebastian smacked a noisy kiss to Chris’s cheek. “You weren’t. You were seduced by my good looks and charming personality.”

Chris turns to smile at him softly, bringing a hand up to cup Sebastian’s cheek. “And now I’m stuck with you.”

“And now you’re stuck with me,” Seb confirms with a solemn nod. “Me and my bad jokes and trashy daytime television.”

Chris snorts unattractively, but he’s grinning and his eyes are bright.

It’s the best sound Seb’s heard all night. “You wanna head home?”

“Nah,” Chris says, standing to dust off his jeans before sealing the filled ashtray in a ziplock and pocketing it. He holds out a hand, eyes crinkling when Seb takes it without hesitation. “I wanna see Mackie get drunk and breakdance.”


	2. Kiss me, kill me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That drunken night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Avery's death, but far before the events of Further and Far Away.

The first time they have sex is a mistake that should have never happened but was somehow meant to anyway.

It’s Chris who initiates it. 

It’s the anniversary the day neither of them mention, but always mourn nonetheless. It stings like poison on an open wound, always does, but on this night it’s worse than usual, and Chris feels like a junkie looking for a fix, something to numb the pain. He’s not sure why he does it, just remembers the red of Sebastian’s lips and flushed cheeks as he takes a swig from their bottle of Jack, fingers brushing together against the neck of the glass. All he knows is in that moment they go from friends to something else.

It’s Chris who initiates it, Chris who presses Sebastian down into his sofa and swallows his protests as he rucks up his t-shirt, drunk on whiskey and desperate to forget. Sebastian claws at his back, tries to buck up and push him off, but Chris is a selfish bastard and he holds fast, licking into Seb’s mouth like he can crawl inside and hide from his memories. And there must be something in that kiss, a desolate plea that makes Seb shudder and give in, curling a hand around the base of Chris’s neck and pulling him in. They end up fucking on the floor, limbs banging into Sebastian’s coffee table as they move together, Chris gripping Sebastian’s hips so hard he’s sure there’ll be finger-shaped bruises come morning.

It’s rough, and animalistic, not at all a storybook romance. By the time they’re both spent, it’s nearly dawn, and Chris dresses and slinks off like the coward he feels and knows he is. He pastes on a pathetic attempt of a smile, all jokes and boisterous personality, tossing an arm around Seb’s neck when he shows up to talk and pretending not to notice the way Sebastian freezes at the contact. He writes it off as a one time thing and it’s fine, really fine.

Until Sebastian goes home the following night with a human and her boyfriend and Chris spirals into a panic attack on his bathroom floor in his empty house; head full of nightmares and stomach full of bile. He doesn’t sleep that night, and marches over to Sebastian’s house the next morning like a man on a mission to finish what he started.

It’s another nail in both their coffins and it’s an ongoing mission that won’t be concluded for a very long time, but neither of them can bring themselves to draw the line in the sand. 

They always _have_ needed each other in some way or another, and if this is another way for them to cope, then so be it.


	3. Monsters in my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic depictions of violence, body horror and in-dream character death.

If you were to ask Chris what he remembered of this moment, he wouldn’t be able to tell you much more than the blood pounding in his ears.

That, and the tendrils of black curling around his left arm and seeping into his bonding mark.

How the hell did it even come to this? A group of hunters had rolled into the city on a lead on the fae. RDJ and Grillo had done their best to lead them away, throwing out a false trail into the next state. Unfortunately this particular group were a bunch of meatheads, and one of them had open fired on a fae child playing near the glade. It wasn’t supposed to turn into a war.

And Sebastian wasn’t supposed to be caught in the crossfire.

Chris rushes through the forest, branches snapping beneath his feet and red seeping into his boots as the swell of black continues to engulf his arm. The air smells of copper and smoke, the telltale signs of blood and gunfire. He catches glimpses of pale-skin and lifeless eyes as he sprints past, casualties of the slaughter, strewn about like autumn leaves.

There’s a faint pulse from the bond, a feeble cry for help, and Chris pushes on, lungs burning. The slight traces of Sebastian’s energy are leading him to the creek, he realizes. He stumbles over a body, nearly collides with another hanging from the trees, and tumbles through the underbrush until he spills out at the creekbed.

_Jesus Christ no._

Sebastian lies crumpled beside the water, like a marionette whose strings have been cut. He’s breathing shallowly, a frightening wheeze each time his chest dips up and down as the life seeps out of him. His eyes are dull and his skin alarmingly white beneath thick layers of dark blood. There’s a gaping wound in his stomach, a jagged hole that leaves tissue and bone on display like some sort of macabre painting in the world’s most fucked up art museum. 

“Seb,” Chris rasps out, dropping to his knees beside him. He brings his hands down to Sebastian’s abdomen, hands sliding through shredded flesh and he attempts to apply pressure. He pushes a flap of skin back into place as blood begins to stream over his knuckles. “Sebastian!”

Sebastian blinks clouded eyes up at him, bloodied lips moving silently as his fingers twitch towards Chris’s arm. Chris catches them and gently folds them to lay across his chest. “Don’t try to move, Seb, please.” He runs a hand up by Sebastian’s shoulder, hissing through his teeth when he comes in contact with the remains of bone and leathery skin where a wing should have been. There’s heavy bleeding from the left side of Sebastian’s face, and Chris brushes his overgrown hair back to discover an ear hanging precariously by cartilage. 

“Chris,” Sebastian breathes, barely a whisper, and Chris lets out a strangled breath as more blood bubbles from his lips. His hand twitches again before his eyes slide out of focus, and his wheezing breaths stop altogether.

“Seb,” Chris says thickly, ignoring the tears running down his face. He knee crawls to Sebastian’s head, pulling his upper body into his lap. “Seb, talk to me.” There’s a sharp bolt of pain that lances through his skull, then pure, eerie silence.

When Chris looks down, his bond mark is ink black.

“No,” he gasps, “ _no--”_

There’s a hiss, like someone calling his name.

_Chris._

“Seb, _no;_ I couldn’t save Avery, I can’t lose you too--”

His name carries on the wind, and it sounds like Sebastian’s voice--

_ChrisChrisChris_

_Chrissss_

“Chris, wake the fuck up!”

Chris’s eye shoot open, wild and unfocused. He vaguely registers his hands sinking into something soft, shredding through the material like tissue--

_What’s left of Sebastian’s body?_

He’s panting heavily and his vision blurs from lack of oxygen, and all he can hear is the _thumpthumpthump_ of his heartbeat. His skin feels like it’s on fire, he can hear it crackling and boiling, until it’s nothing but a pulpy mess like Sebastian’s was--

“--eathe,” a voice somewhere above him is saying. “Chris, you have to _breathe._ ” A head of shaggy brown hair suddenly obscures his vision, grey-blue eyes wide with terror; he can feel fingers gripping his forearms. “Chris, baby, take a breath, _please._ ”

It’s the please that does it. Chris inhales sharply and immediately starts coughing violently, throat raw and tender. One of the hands moves from his arm to the small of his back, rubbing soothing circles into his spine. His lungs burn, and his chest is on fire, and he’s suddenly falling into something solid and warm--

“Chris,” the voice says again. _Sebastian’s voice._ He tries to speak, but only succeeds in something resembling a hysterical sob, high-pitched and shaky. “I’ve got you, don’t try to speak yet.” Something tightens around him; a pair of arms, he realizes. Chris presses his forehead into the solid wall holding him up, he thinks it might be someone’s chest.

“Chris, I’m here,” the voice is saying, hoarse and unsteady. “It’s Seb.”

Chris, opens his mouth, closes it again. Swallows, wets his lips. “Seb?” he manages, in a voice far too small to be his own.

A whoosh of air blows past his ear; a sigh of relief. “Yeah, love, it’s me.”

Slowly, Chris detangles himself from Sebastian’s embrace, gaze darting around to survey the damage. He lifts a trembling hand to his bondmate’s lips. “You’re--” He swallows, tries again. “You’re not hurt?”

“Not hurt,” Seb confirms, allowing Chris to poke and prod him for signs of injury. There’s no wound, no blood, and his ear is still firmly attached to his head. Chris feels an unbelievable sense of relief until his gets to Sebastian’s hands. Seb hisses when Chris touches his palms, and upon further inspection Chris releases they’re a raw pink, and beginning to show signs of second-degree burning.

Chris recoils, gripping his hair. “I--”

“ _No_ you didn’t,” Sebastian interrupts, surging after him to grab him by the wrists. “You didn’t hurt me, not on purpose. We both know you would never do that. You had a nightmare and your core temperature went up. My hands got a little burned when I tried to wake you but I’m _fine.”_

Swallowing, Chris glances down at his hands, then the bedsheets, which are thoroughly shredded. “Your claws came out, too,” Seb adds, when he sees him looking. His eyes are kind and his forehead is scrunched up in concern. One thumb gently presses against Chris’s pulse point while the other wipes away forgotten tears. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently. “I know it was something bad, and I’m assuming it was about me. You kept screaming my name, over and over. _Christ_ , Chris, you sounded so fucking frightened. I wasn’t able to wake you for a good seven minutes.” 

Chris slumps forward, pressing his face into Sebastian’s not-severed left ear. “Hunters,” he mumbles. “There were hunters, and they got you, and _Jesus fucking Christ_ they tore you apart. I could see _everything,_ your insides were practically hanging out. And I was trying to stop the bleeding and you were trying to talk and then you _died;_ I couldn’t save you.” 

It’s not until he’s finished recounting his nightmare, voice cracked and hysterical, that he realizes he’s crying again. Sebastian simply clutches him tighter, pressing warm lips to his clammy forehead. 

“It’s over now. I’m here, I’m safe, _we’re_ safe, and I’m not going anywhere. Look.” He gently tugs Chris’s hand away to slip it under his shirt to encounter smooth skin. Warm, unblemished flesh. Then he moves the hand up to feel beneath his eyes, his cheekbones, his jawline. Chris drinks him in greedily; his hair has gotten longer, falling into his eyes and curling around his ears, and his face is rough with stubble. The bonding mark on his left arm pulses with cracked blue and red energy. He’s alive and whole and beautiful and it’s more than Chris could ever ask for. 

“Shit,” Chris blurts out finally, burying his face in one hand. “I was doing so well on the nightmares, where the fuck did that even _come_ from?” 

Sebastian shrugs with faux nonchalance, attempting a shaky smile. “I had the nightmare last time. Guess it was your turn.” 

Chris pulls his hand away to glare at his bondmate. “Ha fucking ha.” Sebastian just makes a kissy face at him. 

Chris shivers, suddenly aware he’s soaked in sweat, and Sebastian frowns. “You should get in the shower, it’ll help relax you. I’ll change the sheets while you--” 

_“No!”_ Chris gasps, shooting a hand out to grasp at Sebastian’s bonding mark like a lifeline. “I-I can’t. Not without you. I need to be able to see you. I know it was all in my head, but my brain hasn’t gotten the memo yet.” 

Sebastian nods without hesitation, leaning forward to briefly press his forehead to Chris’s. “Of course. You sit and relax, I’ll change the linens. Then shower, _then_ you can take care of my hands. I still have some of that stuff Elizabeth gave us. She said it keeps for a while as long as it’s stored at room temperature.” 

Chris nods in agreement, then reluctantly relinquishes Sebastian’s arm so he can clamber off the bed and sit against the wall. He’s unsteady on his feet and his whole body is trembling, but neither of them mention it. Once the ruined sheets are changed are shoved in the trash, Seb herds Chris into the bathroom. He’s as perceptive as always, making sure they’re touching in some way or another as he strips first Chris, then himself, before turning to adjust the showerhead. 

It’s Seb who does all the work, allows Chris to cling to him while he carefully washes the taint of nightmare off Chris’s body, pressing soft kisses to each freshly cleaned patch of skin. Afterwards, they stand under the spray as Seb combs his fingers through Chris’s wet hair, murmuring words of love and reassurance. Gradually, the tension in Chris’s shoulders melts away, leaving him sleepy and pliant against Seb’s chest. He whines in protest when Seb gently tugs his at his hair, turning off the water and bundling Chris into a towel. After retrieving the tiny jar of salve from the medicine cabinet, he hops up onto the sink and holds his palms out face up for Chris’s inspection. It’s soothing, Chris thinks, as he gently smears the salve onto Seb’s inflamed skin; to care for his bondmate, to know he’s safe and loved. He presses a kiss to each knuckle in apology, sticking his tongue out when Seb gives him a good-natured eyeroll. The air ripples with bonding energy as Seb’s dark eyes track Chris’s hands over his skin. If Chris wasn’t so mentally and emotionally drained, he’d definitely take advantage of the moment. It wasn’t much of a loss, there was always tomorrow, and forever after that. 

Chris lets Seb lead him back down the hall and into bed. He gives Seb a sleepy smile as his other half tugs the comforter over them, then proceeds to mold himself to Chris’s side and tangle their legs together. 

“Sleep,” Seb whispers, giving Chris a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be here when you wake. If the nightmares come back, I’ll just have to chase them away.” 

Chris tilts his head back to capture Sebastian’s lips in a deep kiss. “I know you will,” he whispers back, bumping their noses together. “You always do.” 

They drift off to sleep, wrapped up in one another and free of nightmares. 


	4. When I realize (I can't get my mind off you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chris is a dumbfuck and has a realization. (Takes place several years before Further and Far Away but after Kiss me, kill me.)

They’re at a club on the other side of the city, and Chris is about ready to call it. 

It’s been a rough few days and sleepless nights, plagued by nightmares of Avery. He’s battered and bloody in each one, screaming at Chris for not reaching him soon enough, for _betraying_ him. The conscious part of Chris’s brain knows Avery would never say such things, but the half that's haunted by darkness and guilt says otherwise. And it’s not as though Nightmare Avery is necessarily _wrong._ He _should_ have reached him sooner, and he _is_ betraying him. 

And like the weak fool that he is, Chris can’t seem to stop himself.

He glances out at the dance floor to where Sebastian is busy flirting with some lynx and Anthony is dancing with Elizabeth. This isn’t their usual kind of scene, but everyone had been feeling bored and rowdy, and none of them had wanted that to fall on Mark. So here they are, in some hipster club run by some friends of Scarlett. And here’s Chris, sequestered away in a back booth and sipping at one of the far too many shots he’s had tonight. He tosses back the rest of his whiskey and pulls out his wallet to toss some coin on the table. It hasn’t exactly been his idea of a fun night, and it’s about time it ended.

Of course, that’s when a drunk and horny incubus decides to latch himself onto Chris’s arm. 

“Did you know,” Sebastian queries, waving a hand around, “they have private rooms here? Like, all vamped out and everything. The fae sure know how to live, man.”

Chris squeezes his eyes shut with a grimace. “You don’t say.”

“Yeppppp,” Sebastian drawls, dopey smile turning into a filthy grin. He sidles in closer. “So what d’ya say? Want to go make use of one of them? Scarlett said she can get us a good one.”

Chris exhales slowly through his nostrils, because of _course_ Scarlett would. She’s been trying to push the two of them together ever since they started messing around about two years ago, despite Chris’s constant protests. It’s not like they’re in a relationship, it’s just a way for Sebastian to get laid, and for Chris to numb himself to the pain. The rational piece of him knows Scarlett simply just wants her friends to be happy; the dragon side is just pissed the fuck off, because _how dare she._

“Sebastian,” Chris manages to grit out, edging away when he feels a hand on his thigh. “Not tonight.”

Sebastian actually _pouts_. “Come on, Chris, loosen up a little. You’ve been over here brooding since we passed the ropes.” 

“It’s been a bad week.”  
“It’s always a bad week with you.” Sebastian brings a hand up, running slender fingers down Chris’s cheek as he leans in closer, and okay, Chris has fucking _had it._

“I said _no_.” He grasps Sebastian’s wrist, pulling his hand back like it’s something vile. “I’m not in the mood to fuck around with you. You’re wasted, I’m pissed, and if you keep pawing at me it isn’t going to end well.” Chris nods to the gyrating crowd out on the dance floor. “I’m sure you can find plenty of people to leech off of out there.”

Something is Sebastian’s expression shutters, but it’s gone before Chris is able to place it, replaced by an unimpressed frown. “You know,” Sebastian says, sounding far more sober than he had moments before, “You’ve always been a real asshole when you’re drunk.” 

Then he’s up and gone, stumbling back across the floor to where he left the lynx girl earlier. They kiss, hot and filthy and full of promise, and then they’re both off to the wing of rooms Sebastian had mentioned earlier. Chris watches them go, and when Sebastian turns with a smirk to give him a wobbly salute, something just _breaks_.

It’s as though all the rage he’s been feeling for the past week has drained away, replaced by utter misery. He hadn’t meant to be such a dick, but it had been a Bad Week, goddammit, and unfortunately Sebastian just so happened to know exactly which of his buttons to push.

“You’re an idiot.”

Chris glances to his left wearily, nodding in acknowledgement. “It has been said.”

Scarlett’s eyes are gleaming with fire, and her pretty face is twisted in fury. “You don’t get it, Evans. That boy gives you _everything,_ and you still treat him like he’s nothing but something you can use to get your dick wet whenever you feel like it.”

And just like that, the rage is back.

“He’s my _best friend_ ,” Chris hisses, eyes flashing electric blue. “I would kill for him, I’d _die_ for him. Don’t you dare imply otherwise.”

Scarlett remains unmoved. “You and I both know he stopped being just a friend a long time ago. You’re just too much of a blind fool to see it. And one day Sebastian is finally going to wise up and stop waiting on a lost cause.” She stands and dusts off her dress, before turning back to the crowd. “I just hope for his sake it’s sooner rather than later.”

Chris buries his face in a trembling palm. As much as he wants to gut her right now, Scarlett’s right. Somewhere along the line Sebastian stopped being that goofy kid that used to follow him and Avery around and became something so much more. When and how it happened is beyond him, but he knows with absolute certainty that he can’t let it out.   
He thinks back to the smug look on Sebastian’s face as he headed off with tonight’s mark, and it feels as though someone has stepped on his chest. It’s his own damn fault, though, and he knows it. Seb had come to him first, happy and punchdrunk and ready for a good time, and Chris had slammed the metaphorical door in his face. 

_Scarlett really hit the nail on the head,_ he thinks hysterically as his eyes grow wet. _You really are a fool._


	5. Perplexity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chris is a bit of an idiot and a lot oblivious. (Takes place many years before Further and Far Away)

Chris is glaring, and he knows it.

They’re at a hole-in-the-wall bar somewhere off the red light district in the Tel Aviv underground. There’s a handful of drunk tourists milling around, but everyone else is decidedly a gifted or inhuman. The three of them had been trekking through the Middle East for the past several weeks to visit the best sites in Israel before moving on to Egypt by the end of the week, or, as Avery, who is off somewhere getting drinks, likes to call it, “the next stop on the epic brosome tour.” It’s only Tuesday, so they still have another night to spend in the city before heading over to Jerusalem. So far it’s been a pretty good time.

And Chris is glaring.

To be more specific, Chris is glaring at _Sebastian,_ who is currently across the room and entwined with an estrie so tightly it’s difficult to tell whose hands belong to whom. And Chris gets it, he really does. He likes sex, loves it. Sebastian is an incubus who also like-loves sex; needs it to survive, as a matter of fact. Which means more often than not he’s either in someone’s bed or they’re in his at whatever hostel they’re currently staying in. 

It’s not like it’s a problem. Privacy has never been an issue; Chris and Avery generally have their own room--like they do this time around--and Sebastian has his. On the rare occasion they’re all forced to bunk together, Sebastian usually just stays with the latest flavor of the night and Chris and Avery have the room to themselves. Hence, the lack of a problem. 

Chris likes to call it concern. Sebastian gets more than enough sex and then some, sometimes with multiple partners at a time. Which is fine, Sebastian’s a grown man and is more than capable of making his own life choices. The concern stems from the fact that while Sebastian may be an adult, he’s not exactly cautious when it comes to finding a new mark. Like that time they had to cut their trip to Greece short because an enraged harpy had caught Seb making time with her husband. And okay, that hadn’t really been Seb’s fault; the guy had never mentioned having a partner, and Sebastian was the furthest thing from a homewrecker. But now? This was just pure recklessness.

“You’re thinking too hard,” a voice murmurs in his ear as a glass of beer is deposited in front of him and an arm encircles his waist. “I can smell it burning from the other side of the bar.”

“Ha fucking ha.” Chris leans back easily, dipping down to plant a firm kiss on Avery’s lips as he sidles up onto the stool beside him. “At least one of us has to be, and there certainly isn’t any coherent thought going on in that corner.” He gestures to where Seb now has a hand up the girl’s skirt, and from the way things are looking it’s not too hard to guess where hers is. 

Avery slides him his beer, knocking their shoulders together. “Let him have his fun. At least he’s clothed this time; remember Baghdad? I saw enough of what my best friend looks like naked back then, I really don’t need a reminder. Besides, they’ll probably head upstairs soon.”  
Sure enough, the dark-haired woman is climbing off Seb’s lap; grabbing his hand and dragging him upstairs where there’s a hallway of private rooms specifically for what they have in mind. Chris scowls, downing his beer in one go; Avery squints at him.

“What’s your problem? He found some company for the night, it’s nothing new.”

“She’s a motherfucking _estrie,_ Ave. You know what those devil women are capable of. What the hell is he thinking, going off alone with her like that?”

“Why, did you want to watch?” Avery asks snarkily, raising an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, Chris, some people like a little pain with their pleasure.” He tugs at Chris’s collar, lowering it just enough to display an impressive set of claw marks adorning Chris’s shoulders. Chris flushes a deep red, and Avery grins. “Stop treating him like he’s a delicate flower, we’ve watched him rip hunters apart with his bare hands for Christ’s sake. Not to mention the glamour.”

“I _know_ that,” Chris huffs impatiently, clearly frustrated that his point isn’t getting across the way he wants it to. “That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be more careful. I’m all for casual sex but would it kill him to get someone’s name first? Or at least get an official friend with benefits, maybe an actual bondmate, I don’t know. ”

Avery’s other eyebrow joined the first one. “So you’re saying he should settle down before he’s ready?”

“Like he’ll _ever_ be ready at this rate. Incubi aren’t exactly known for being the shining example of healthy relationships.” Chris sighs, twirling the beer glass in his hand. “Look, I want him to be happy, and if he’s really enjoying himself, then it’s whatever. But I just wish he’d grow up a little. Guy must have slept with half of Africa by now and we haven’t even visited the whole continent yet.” He looks up, startling when he sees that Avery’s eyes are slitted amber, mouth set in a firm, hard line. “What?”

“You do realize,” Avery begins, voice impressively steady considering the pissed off vibes he’s giving, “that you’re basically calling him a whore?”

Chris throws up his hands. “I don’t mean it like that, okay? All I’m saying is he could get to know someone first before jumping in the sack with them.”

“You mean like how you got to know _me_ at Carnival in Brazil when you had your tongue down my throat after thirty seconds of introductions?”

Chris flinches. “Babe, that’s not what I’m saying. Our situation was different--”

“How, Chris? _How?_ ” Avery snarls, voice low and lips curling to show a hint of fang. Chris would find it pretty hot if it wasn’t being directed at him. “Because if I remember correctly  
you didn’t even bother asking me for my name until the next morning after we somehow made it back to your hotel room. For all you had known I could have been a fucking traitor looking to sell you off to some hunters, you goddamn _hypocrite._ ”

Chris squeezes his eyes shut, a heavy pit of regret forming in his stomach. “Babe..”

Avery rises and shoves his stool back in against the bartop, his beer untouched. “I’m going back to our room.” And with that he strides across the venue and down the set of stairs that leads to the wing they’re staying in beneath the main street.

Chris smacks a hand to his face, dragging it down to scrub at his beard.

“Fuck.”

***

When Sebastian heads back to his room the following morning, rumpled and well fucked, he’s planning on face-planting on his mattress to have some awesome post-sex napping. 

What he _isn’t_ planning on is to find Chris leaning back against his headboard, bare-chested and in sweatpants, scowling down at a book. 

Chris--or, on occasion, Avery--spending the night in Sebastian’s room is never a good sign. There’s hardly any boundaries between the three of them, so knowing one of the guys has made himself at home in Sebastian’s absence isn’t the concerning part. No, that part has to do with _why_ Chris is here in the first place. He and Avery are inseparable, so for the two of them to bunker down for the night apart from one another is an immediate red flag.

Sebastian sighs, kicking off his shoes and running a hand through his sex-mussed hair. “Alright. What did you do?”

Chris lifts his gaze from the pages to throw Seb a withering look. “What makes you think _I_ did anything.”

Sebastian shrugs, shucking his jeans and shirt until he’s in a Y-back and boxers. Again, no boundaries; the three of them have been living out of each other’s pockets for so long that someone was bound to get an eyeful or two eventually. “You’re the one here. If Ave fucked up, then he would be here instead of you.” 

He flings himself down onto the bed beside Chris, making sure to keep several respectable inches between them. Avery’s been a saint about discovering his best friend had feelings for his own bondmate, but that didn’t mean Sebastian was going to be overly cautious about stepping out of bounds. Chris didn’t deserve that, and Avery definitely didn’t. Seb kicks at Chris’s ankle, quirking an eyebrow. “So. What happened?”

Chris gnaws on his lower lip, frowning down at his book again. “Nothing to tell. I said something stupid, we got into a fight, Avery went back to the room for the night, and I came here with my tail between my legs and begging for forgiveness.” He tapped his temple with his right hand, bonding marks flashing. “He hasn’t responded.”

Sebastian nods sagely, face serious. “Ah. So the usual then.”

Chris shoves an open palm against his face, shoving Sebastian back into the pillows. “Fuck you.”

Seb ducks his head so Chris can’t see how half-assed his grin is. “Nah, I’m way too pretty for you.”

_Christ, wasn’t that the biggest lie ever told._

No one was pretty enough, good enough, deserving enough of Chris other than Avery. They were the definition of a perfect bonded pair, and Sebastian couldn’t be happier for them.

It didn’t mean a part of him didn’t die inside whenever he saw them together.

“Anyway,” Seb continues, stretching his arms above his head with a groan, “Whatever it is, you guys will work it out. You always do, just give him some time to cool off. You know how Ave gets when he’s riled up, he gets all broody and isolates himself and everyone he’s pissed at gets the cold shoulder. _You_ on the other hand get all pissy and passive aggressive and fight with whoever you can for any reason you can come up with.” 

“Gee, thanks,” Chris deadpans.

“I’m serious. You’re my best friend, but you better fucking believe I’m gonna call you out on your bullshit. Both of you,” Seb adds, cutting Chris off when he opens his mouth to retort. “I love you both. As much as you think I always take Avery’s side, I’m nothing but honest with the two of you. If one of you is wrong or being stupid I tell it like it is.”

Chris snaps his jaw shut, scowling.

“Stop that,” Seb says, elbowing him in the side. “You fucked up, now own up to it. Go back to your mate and apologize; grovel, do whatever you have to. We both know Ave is going to forgive and forget whatever you said.”

Chris stares down at his lap again. “I’m not so sure about forgetting this time, he was super pissed. And I deserved it, I ran my mouth when I shouldn’t have about things I know nothing about.”

Seb side-eyes him curiously, like he’s trying to figure something out. Then he yawns, settling back into his pillows. “So what if you did? You’re never going to solve anything hiding out here.”

“Yeah.” Chris stands, pulling on his shirt and shoes before fishing out his room key. “I’d-I’d better go sort this out. Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Sebastian says with a lazy grin, sprawling out further. “Now get out of my room so I can sleep.”

* * *

Despite finally making it back to their room, Chris doesn’t actually go in. He has the keys, but it feels wrong to use them, and he can’t bring himself to knock just yet. He spends a good ten minutes shuffling around outside the door until a voice inside yells, “For Christ’s sake, Chris, just fucking come inside already,” at which point he fumbles with the lock before tripping through the doorway.

Avery’s sitting in the window, freshly showered and looking out into the Underground. He doesn’t turn when the door closes, but Chris sees his shoulders tense, which isn’t the best sign. Looks like it’s best to go for broke, then.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, staring down at his key. “You’re right, it’s none of my business who Sebastian spends time with. I was an asshole, and it wasn’t fair.”

By the time he finishes, neither of them move for a solid thirty seconds. Chris is starting to feel twitchy again when Avery finally turns around, wet faux hawk plastered to the sides of his head. “Are you saying that because you mean that?” he asks flatly. “Or because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

Now that definitely throws Chris for a loop.

“ _What?_ ”

“You heard me.”

“I did. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course I mean it. I _was_ an ass and I _am_ sorry.”

Avery snorts humorlessly. “But you still think he’s a whore.”

“Wh--” Chris tosses his hands up in frustration. “I just don’t understand, okay? I’m not trying to point fingers or slut-shame him, I just _don’t get it._ He’s an incubus, sure, free agent and all that, but would it hurt the guy to give commitment a shot?”

“Chris.” When Avery speaks this time it’s on a growl, low and dangerous. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe _Sebastian_ isn’t the issue?”

Chris blinks, because, what.

“You said so yourself. Incubi are known for being free agents and against romance. So did it ever occur to you that they probably keep the same company?”

Chris blinks again.

“Pretend you’re single and horny. If you ran into a kinky sex demon,” Avery continues, amber eyes boring into Chris’s blue ones, “who was willing to give you whatever you wanted, no strings attached, wouldn’t you take it?”

Chris, about to fade into blink territory for the third time this conversation, shook himself. “I mean--I guess, yeah. If we’re talking back in the day when I was just looking to mess around, sure. That’d be like a dream come true.”

Avery jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. People don’t go looking to sex demons for love, Chris. They go looking for _fun._ Seb’s had more than a few people crush on him before, but that’s not love, Chris, that’s _lust._ I guarantee you if he wanted to sit down and talk for a night, totally sex-free, the person drooling over him would take off screaming in the opposite direction.”

Avery’s words hit Chris like a sack of bricks. “So even if he was interested--”

“-n-N one else would be,” Avery finishes quietly, eyes sad. “Seb’s my best friend, Chris. You don’t think we’ve had this conversation before? He has feelings that aren’t natural for an incubus. He’s decided it’s best not to want what he can’t have.”

Chris slumps back against the door. “ _Jesus._ ”

“Yeah.” Avery turns back to the window. “Well, now you know, you inconsiderate dick.”

“ _Babe,_ ” Chris pleads. “I can’t even begin to tell you how stupid I am. I didn’t even think about it that way. I’m an asshole, I know I am, and I deserve every bit of attitude you have to throw it at me. But if you’re pissed, can you at least me pissed screaming at me instead of giving me the cold shoulder?” He drops his gaze to the stone floor. “I miss you.”

Avery sighs, gnawing at his lip for a minute or two before extending an arm outward. He tries not to grin when Chris immediately slips beneath it. “You didn’t know. Just, try not to run your mouth so much, eh?”

Chris noses into his bondmate’s shoulder, gently flicking a tongue over the inked skin he finds there and smirking when Avery shivers. “Deal. Soooo,” he migrates upward, nipping at Avery’s pulsepoint. “Make-up sex?”

Avery rolls his eyes, trying to appear cross, but it lacks heat with the way he’s tilting his head back to give Chris better access. “I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know.”

A hand comes up to grip Chris tightly by the hair. “And you’re doing all the work.”

Chris grins, sliding a hand down to palm at Avery’s hip. 

“I can live with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> We are velvetjinx and edible-crayon on Tumblr.


End file.
